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"Now, Jack," cried Thames, warmly grasping Sheppard's hand, "you are my friend again. “Called myself Anna,” the girl repeated coolly. ” She looked at him; his face, downcast and in profile, was handsome and strong. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. “I won’t have you quarrelling and crying in the Avenue,” he said. “I look older. " "Cannot?" echoed Jack, a slight smile crossing his features.
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